Author Archives: Ermilia

Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.

I walk through the world, but this is not my home. The colors are dull and low definition. Here, I feel restricted. My clothes are baggy and my shoes cause blisters. I’m stuck as a human. When the bullies chase me home from school, I don’t get to wear my +2 speed sneakers or cast spells with my staff.

At home, in the simulation, I am a 99th level wizard. instead of bullies, I face dragons and I can defeat them. No one messes with me. I have clan members who ban together against my foes just as I do for theirs. Though I have never met my closest friends, I know everything about them. They love me for me, for my raw personality. They do not see the skinny kid or hear my studder.

–Eliabeth Hawthorne

This post is also inspired by Ready Player One. I just finished my second re-read.

Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & Write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish !

Something from the Nightside

Nightside #1

by Simon R. Green

genre: dark fantasy

Summary from Goodreads

John Taylor is not a private detective per se, but he has a knack for finding lost things. That’s why he’s been hired to descend into the Nightside, an otherworldly realm in the center of London where fantasy and reality share renting space and the sun never shines.Continue reading →

Blind Sight: Through The Eyes Of Aniela Dawson

Eliabeth Hawthorne

Chapter FIVE

Solemn Streamers

Aniela turned the wheel of the go-cart and would have bounced out of her seat if not for the seatbelt holding her in as she took a tight corner too quickly. By some miracle, Nate was only a cart length ahead of her, and she was determined to pass him on the final lap. He glanced over his shoulder as she tried to squeeze between his car and the wall, only to be blocked by his incessant weaving. A jarring push from someone behind her sent her careening into the padded wall. Unable to reverse, she had to wait for one of the workers to pull her away, allowing her to return, last, into the go-cart area. Nate greeted her at the exit with a victorious grin.

“Next time,” she baited.

Nate wrapped his arm affectionately around her shoulders and they wandered through the rest of the Founder’s Day carnival. Everyone had gathered to celebrate the discovery of Edaion, or to stuff themself with candy. Strings of lights wrapped around trees and kiosks sold warm chilidogs, funnel cakes, and other junk food to combat the chilly October weather. A chair swing spun around eliciting screams from giddy children, and a conservative roller coaster meandered around on a wooden track. Streamers and banners flapped gently in the breeze as a live band jumped around on a stage somewhere in the distance.

Smoke billowed out of tents advertising a peek into the future or communication with the dead. It was one of Edaion’s jokes on the tourists. While the booths advertising glimpses into the future, either through crystal balls or flip cards were just there for the naïve tourism crowd, some of the mediums were legitimate. Even though using their gifts didn’t require any outside help, they dressed up in gaudy jewelry, ridiculous hats, and glasses that made their eyes look three times their normal size. Their tents were filled with every cliché item they could find, and the more ostentatious, the better. If the customer paid enough, they got the real deal. If the customer was stingy, it was literally all smoke and mirrors.

Blind Sight: Through The Eyes Of Aniela Dawson

Eliabeth Hawthorne

Chapter FOUR

Party Blues

October leaves changed from green to bright golds and deep reds all across the country. They stacked themselves into piles during the night, only to be scattered by exuberant children in the morning. People pushed summer clothes to the backs of the closets to be replaced by warm coats, sweaters, and jeans.

Aniela struggled to pay attention in class. She found it hard to concentrate on her teacher’s lectures. Who cared what velocity she would have to throw a water balloon off a building to hit someone standing twelve feet away? If she were to be on top of a building plotting a watery demise to some unsuspecting victim below, by the time she made all the required calculations, the person would be safely in the building.

The final bell rang and Viola twisted around in her seat. “Do you think blind people go to the movies?”

“I have no idea,” Aniela admitted. “Why?”

Viola practically lived in the music library and made quick friends with Odette while the choir director tried to prepare her for the years ahead. Viola had invited Aniela and Odette over, but was still undecided about what activity to plan.

Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.

You are what you eat. It’s a common enough phrase. Eat fat, you’ll be fat. Eat healthy, you’ll be healthy. People tend to ignore medical conditions, but that’s besides the point. What if you eat an angry fish or scared head of kale? Are our emotions tied to what we eat as well?

–Eliabeth Hawthorne

Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & Write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish !

The Bloodbound
The Bloodbound #1

by Erin Lindsey

genre: fantasy, romance

Summary

Of all those in the King of Alden’s retinue, the bloodbinders are the most prized. The magic they wield can forge invaluable weapons, ones that make soldiers like Lady Alix Black unerringly lethal. However, the bloodbinders’ powers can do so much more—and so much worse…

A cunning and impetuous scout, Alix only wishes to serve quietly on the edges of the action. But when the king is betrayed by his own brother and left to die at the hands of attacking Oridian forces, she winds up single-handedly saving her sovereign.

Suddenly, she is head of the king’s personal guard, an honor made all the more dubious by the king’s exile from his own court. Surrounded by enemies, Alix must help him reclaim his crown, all the while attempting to repel the relentless tide of invaders led by the Priest, most feared of Oridia’s lords.

But while Alix’s king commands her duty, both he and a fellow scout lay claim to her heart. And when the time comes, she may need to choose between the two men who need her most…

Blind Sight: Through The Eyes Of Aniela Dawson

Eliabeth Hawthorne

Chapter THREE

A Unique Tune

Aniela’s fingers plucked at the air while she practiced an imaginary harp. This was not how she wanted to spend her afternoon, but her private teacher had called her in for an extra lesson. While Aniela thought her impending graduation meant she did not have to practice as much, her teacher told her graduation was no excuse for laziness. Unlike many of her orchestra companions, she had no desire to continue after, at least not at the same level. Aniela sighed and dropped her hands; the music inside her head stopped just as abruptly. This was important to her mother, so she stuck with it.

One of the practice room doors opened behind her and she twisted to see if her teacher was ready for her. Instead, a blind girl stepped out of one of the adjoining rooms. Her white and orange stick slid across the floor as she walked. Aniela was fascinated; she had never seen a blind person before. The girl did not hide her eyes behind sunglasses; her loose straight brown hair was pulled back except for the bangs which fell into her eyes. Despite the shame Aniela felt for staring, she could not resist.

Another door opened and a young man barreled into the blind girl, sending both toppling to the floor.

Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.

His head swam and hands shook. Four days. It had been four days since his last drink and every one of them had been a fight. He saw bottles everywhere. The fire hydrant turned into Jim Bean. The tree dangled grey goose over his head. All he had to do was reach for it, reach for another drink.

–Eliabeth Hawthorne

Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & Write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish !

Blind Sight: Through The Eyes Of Aniela Dawson

Eliabeth Hawthorne

Chapter TWO

A GREEN GLOW

Aniela lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. The tiara sat on her vanity, but never before had she wanted it less. Ever since she could remember, her mother had favored her over her sister. In her naïve ignorance and sibling rivalry she had thought it a positive until maturity enlightened her to the irreparable rift that had occurred between her and the twins because of it. Theodore did not dislike her the way Tatiana did, but could never truly befriend her. Part of her wanted to be mad at her mother for bringing about the final act that would forever keep them apart, and yet she felt guilty for not seeing it coming.

The alarm went off at 5:15, as it did every day, indiscriminate of weekdays or weekends. Aniela went to the bathroom, washed the sleepy dirt out of her eyes, and removed any signs of the tears that had dried to her cheeks. She would be glad to leave this world to her brother, craving instead a different life, one that did not require her to always be up early, always be presentable, and sacrifice her own desires for obligations. She made her way to breakfast. Regardless of the chaos afternoons and evenings frequently held for her, she could always count on the morning routine.

James sat at the head of the table, sipping his coffee and staring at the newspaper, but closer inspection of his unmoving gaze told her his normal routine ended there. She also now realized he had the paper strategically folded to hide the front page from view. If Alaya had noticed, she was not commenting, nor did she show any curiosity toward the matter. She sipped her tea casually across from him with her perfect make-up and without a hair out of place. She offered no indication that she had flown off the handle the night before. Aniela watched them both, amazed at their ability to compartmentalize. While Alaya’s behavior was not a surprise, she wondered how James could act as though nothing had happened, since he was Tatiana’s advocate in the family.

Her gaze flickered to Theodore. She was still half-afraid to look him in the eye, lest he return an icy glare, but his eyes were not even open. The serving cart rolled around to each of them. Aniela looked disapprovingly at her dry whole-wheat toast and grapefruit half as her plate floated to its place. She reached for the butter, but felt a sharp sting as Alaya slapped her hand.

“Aniela, what have I told you about empty calories?”

When Theodore reached over and buttered his pancakes, apparently unobservant of the impending punishment, he succeeded without retribution. Aniela gave her mother a look of exasperation.

Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.

I held my breath as the grocery store scooter hit a bump. Pain radiated out from my abdomen. My eyes clenched shut and I almost cried. Ever since the surgery, it felt like someone had attacked my midsection with a cheese wire. The doctor told me I could walk and push a cart, which would have been all well and good except for the car ride to the store. Every bump jiggled my stomach and even though there was no visual evidence of such, I swear it pulled on my stitches.

I headed to the frozen food aisle since there was no way in Hell I would be cooking this week. When I rounded the corner, I saw a mother carrying her child. It didn’t take telepathy to know what she thought of me. Her eyes caught mine, roamed down to the scooter and then back up. She saw a twenty-two year old riding a scooter. She didn’t see the four incisions in my belly, kept together by stitches and glue. She didn’t see my missing ovaries, uterus, and tubes. She saw a lazy girl taking resources from the elderly.

I passed the frozen food, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It might have been different if I had a cast on my foot, something she could see. When one of the store clerks glared at me, I abandoned the scooter and walked slowly, painfully back to the car. Tonight, I would order takeout.

–Eliabeth Hawthorne

Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & Write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish !